Homeostasis
by xrowa-chanx
Summary: Their lives were like oil and water - always side by side yet never really touching. But what happens when Arthur and Francis find themselves inexplicably connected by two orphaned boys? And who, or what, is ADAM? AU, FrUK, Laven. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone :'3 I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus right now, but mehh... Revision sucks =_= *shrugs***

**Anyways, to the fanfic ~ This fanfic is dedicated to my girlfriend, who is beyond amazing - I still don't know what I've done to deserve you ~ Thank you for everything you do for me, sweetie :') I'm so sorry this is so late as a birthday fic ('cause I changed my mind about what I was writing... again... /shot) but, well, happy belated 'birtday', and I love you *heart***

**Enjoy everyone ~ !**

**SUMMARY: Their lives were like oil and water - always side by side yet never really touching. But what happens when Arthur and Francis find themselves inexplicably connected by two orphaned boys? And who, or what, is ADAM? AU, FrUK, Laven.**

**MAIN PAIRINGS: FrUK, Laven**

**WARNINGS: T rated for England's potty mouth and, well, France. Might go up in the future.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own D Gray Man or Hetalia - if I did, an official crossover would exist between them already *laughs***

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Homeostasis - Chapter 1

Arthur Kirkland hated kids.

He absolutely despised them. They were loud, and whingey, and messy, and fussy with food. So, basically, they acted far too similarly to the one man Arthur couldn't stand; Francis Bonnefoy.

Just thinking of the Frenchman made Arthur cringe, causing him to slam a can of tuna for his cat on the counter before him rather hard, making the poor employee at the till cringe and back away slightly, making her mutter something fearfully in German.

Arthur and Francis had known each other for years. First meeting one rainy day at primary school, it was hate at first sight. They were complete opposites, liking different subjects, always getting in each other's way when painting in Art, or pushing and shoving each other in the lunch queue so much so that their food would always end up decorating the floor.

Plus Arthur resented the wealth that Francis' parents had - he was always boasting about what country he had visited in the half term break, always rubbing it in Arthur's face because he was a 'poor little _rosbif '. _Was it Arthur's fault that his parents simply couldn't afford big fancy holidays abroad? Of course not.

But, still, it grated on his nerves nonetheless.

"Th-that w-will be £32.20 in total," the shop employee stammered, avoiding eye contact nervously. Arthur sighed, simply nodding and handing the woman the money he owed, trying not to roll his eyes at her upside down name tag saying Miranda Lotto.

Soon enough, Arthur was heading out of the big supermarket with his bags of shopping and making his way towards his car. Along the way, he spotted a family getting out of their car near to him, children screaming, the parents trying not to have mental breakdowns. Arthur walked past them, grimacing.

That was again another reason not to have kids; relationships.

Now, Arthur was not asexual - he did like women (and the occasional man), but every single relatonship that he had had ended up failing miserably. With his first girlfriend in secondary school to his most recent boyfriend, every one of them either dumped him or were dumped by him. It just never worked out.

And of course Francis used his miserable love life as further ammo against him.

For it was common knowledge that the Frenchman was a whore, to be blunt. He slept with anything that moved. Well, apart from Arthur and most Englishmen. Oh, and Americans. Which led to Arthur's last boyfriend, Alfred, not getting on very well with Francis.

Now, why would Alfred have had to put up with Francis in the first place? Because Francis and Arthur lived in the same apartment building.

Arthur had seriously believed that fate hated him. He had managed to escape the Frenchman all the way through university, making him think that he had finally gotten rid of the poncy blonde. Then, after graduating from his degree in English Literature, Arthur picked a lovely apartment building in the outskirts of Brighton to settle down in.

And who just had to be staying in the room above his own? Francis. Of all people.

It seemed the Frenchman was just as surprised to see Arthur as he was to see the Frenchman. Having accidentally knocked into each other one morning on the way to breakfast, they had immediately apologised before realising who the other was.

And so their bitter rivalry continued.

Arthur reached his car and dumped his shopping inside, getting in on the driver's side and turning the engine on. Soon enough, the Brit was heading home. Humming to a song by Mumford & Sons on the radio, Arthur pushed all thoughts of Francis away.

He had far more important things to deal with. For one of his closest friends was coming to visit him, and he had been told by said friend that there was a big surprise waiting at home for him.

A very big surprise.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Francis Bonnefoy hated kids.

He absolutely despised them. They were smelly, and needed constant care and attention, and would affect his sex life. Francis couldn't really bring women home every weekend if he had a child to look after, could he?

Francis groaned and stretched a little, almost tipping the saucepan filled with custard in his hands onto the floor. The blonde quickly righted himself, giving his boss a sheepish grin as she glared at him.

"Stop fucking about and get on with it!" she snapped, taking a plate of food from another cook and giving it to a waiter. "Do you want to get fired?"

"_Non, Madame _Klaud," came the somewhat exasperated reply from Francis.

The blonde couldn't help it if he was distracted! Children reminded him too much of a certain annoying Englishman with caterpillars for eyebrows. Arthur Kirkland acted just like an immature little brat, always pouting when he did something stupid, and shouting and swearing like a brute when angry, and he was a rather horrible drunk to top it all off.

"Stupid _rosbif_," Francis muttered under his breath, scowling. Just thinking about Arthur pissed him off. However, the thought that at least Arthur's loud and obnoxious boyfriend was finally out of the Brit's life was comforting - Francis almost cheered when he heard that they had finally split up. Alfred F. Jones had been by far the most annoying American that Francis had ever met.

It was also obvious from the beginning that Arthur and Alfred were never going to work out. They were too different, too contrasting in how they acted and thought and showed their feelings.

There was no way that the super-affectionate Alfred would have been able to stand Arthur's closed-off ways for long.

"Ahh, done!"

Francis smiled as his pudding was finally completed, the custard being the finishing touch. Ignoring the heated stare from his boss, Francis handed the plate to a waiter so it could be served. Just as he did so, a rather loud squeal from a young child made both Francis and the waiter jump.

"_Mon dieu_!" Francis exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The squeal was followed by a quite vehement berating from the child's mother. Francis wrinkled his nose at the mother's untidy appearance and the bags under her eyes that were barely covered up by make-up.

Yet another reason why Francis disliked children.

Women became somewhat less free and frisky after having kids, wanting to settle down and get married instead. Just thinking about marriage made Francis shudder. To be so tied down, and restricted to one person... It would get so boring!

Meaningless one-night stands suited Francis so much better - there was no heartbreak, no commitments, no obligations but having a good time and parting ways afterwards. Relationships were overrated in Francis' opinion, and Arthur's failed attempts at finding a lasting relationship proved Francis right.

"Now, get on with the ratatouille that was ordered by Table 10," Klaud demanded, startling Francis out of his reverie. "You can finish your shift after that."

"Wh-what? Really?" the blonde asked, stunned. His boss nodded, beginning to look rather pissed off again. Francis cheered and kissed Klaud on the cheek. "You are as kind as you are beautiful, _ma cherie_! I should take you out somewhere and show you a go-"

Francis made a choking sound as Klaud smacked him round the face with a ladle.

"Get on with it, you idiot!"

And with that she left the blonde to carry on working. Francis pouted as he rubbed his face.

He didn't feel down for very long though, for a good friend of his was coming to visit later on that day and he'd been told rather cryptically on the phone that there was a surprise waiting for the blonde when he got home.

All Francis could hope for was that it would be a rather nice surprise. Involving strippers.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"You want me to do WHAT ? !"

"Oh calm down. It'll only be for a little while."

"A little while? A little while ? ! You're going to India for three years!"

Cross sighed, resisting the urge to set Arthur's eyebrows on fire with his lit cigarette.

"I can't just leave the brat at home alone, idiot. You're taking care of him."

And, as simply as that, Cross Marian waltzed out of Arthur's flat.

"Wait a fucking minute! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Arthur ran out of the room and into the hallway outside. Suddenly, a rather menacing gun appeared in front of the blonde's face out of nowhere. Arthur gulped.

"You _will _take care of him. Understood?" Cross demanded menacingly, single red eye glinting as he poked the Brit's forehead with the gun in his hand. Arthur nodded, trying not to have a heart attack. Cross smirked. "Good. I'll send you money to pay for the brat when I feel like it."

As Cross walked away, Arthur knew that what he had just been told was a big fat lie.

"Like hell you'll pay me... wanker." the Brit mumbled, rubbing his forehead where the gun had poked him rather hard. Sighing and suddenly very much desiring a bottle of whisky (or several bottles), Arthur turned around and headed back into his flat, shutting the door behind him.

Standing in the centre of his kitchen was a young boy of around 6 years of age, his startling white hair and silver eyes reminding Arthur of some kind of manga protagonist that Kiku would undoubtedly find adorable. The boy was dressed in a smart little suit and, as soon as the boy saw that Arthur was looking at him, he started fiddling with the ribbon around his neck nervously.

"So..." Arthur began, feeling somewhat awkward. "What's your name?"

"Allen Walker, sir," the boy replied politely, his accent undoubtedly English. Arthur blinked. Then, stepping towards the boy, Arthur extended a hand with a partly forced smile - he could at least be the gentleman and be polite in return.

"Pleased to meet you. And do call me Arthur," the blonde replied. Allen smiled a little, blushing shyly.

"Okay."

For a while there was silence. Then, all of a sudden, Allen's stomach grumbled really loudly. The boy blushed bright red in embarrassment.

"W-would you like something to eat?" Arthur asked tentatively. Allen nodded.

Opening the fridge, Arthur took out a plateful of scones that he had made earlier. Allen's mouth watered. The instant Arthur placed the plate on the kitchen counter, Allen reached forward and ate all of the scones so quickly that Arthur swore he was hallucinating.

"Ahh, they were really tasty!" Allen cried, beaming and smiling contentedly. He turned towards Arthur with pleading eyes. "Do you have any more?"

Arthur blinked. Then blinked again.

"... Y-you thought they were... tasty?" the man stammered, surprised. Allen nodded vigurously.

For a while Arthur did nothing. No-one, and I mean no-one, had ever liked his cooking before. Looking down at the white haired boy before him, Arthur found himself smiling warmly and ruffling the boy's hair.

"Would you like to help me make some more?"

"YES PLEASE ~ !"

And, suddenly, Arthur didn't really mind taking care of the boy after all.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"You want me to do WHAT ? !"

"I am too old for this, you idiot! I have to go to this archaeological dig whether you like it or not!"

"You're going for three years! Three! I refuse!"

"You will take care of him!"

"I will not!"

"You will!"

"I will not_!"_

_"_You_ will _or so help me I will tell the police about what you did to that poor Chinese man the other da-"

"Oh come on Bookman, Komui knew what he was in for the moment he agreed to come home with me!"

"He ended up in hospital, Bonnefoy!"

"And? That doesn't mean anything! And to think I thought my surprise was going to be a stripper..."

"You fool! All you think about is women."

_"Oui, _for women are amazing creatures of beauty and sensuality and -"

"You're French?"

Francis cocked his head at this question, turning towards the one who had asked it. The boy was quite young, probably around 10 years of age, and had deep red coloured hair and mismatched eyes - his left eye was a dark emerald green, but his right eye was a bright turquoise colour. The boy was smiling.

"Yes, I am French. Why do you ask?" Francis questioned curiously.

"I just like speaking French, that's all," the boy replied, grinning. Francis blinked.

"Y-you can speak French?"

"_Oui, je le parle. Mais il y a beaucoup des lettres que j'ai besoin de apprendre."_ [Yes, I speak it. But there are many letters that I have to learn.]

Francis' face lit up.

_"Comment t'appele tu, mon petit lapin?" _he asked, kneeling down in front of the boy. [What's your name, my little rabbit?]

_"Je m'appele _Lavi Bookman_," _the red head replied, smiling_. "Et vous appelez _Francis Bonnefoy_, non? Le Grande Perverti Sexuel!"_ [I'm called Lavi Bookman. And you're Francis Bonnefoy, no? The Great Pervert!]

"Hahaha _oui, je suis Le Grande Perverti Sexuel!" _Francis replied with a laugh, patting the boy's head. [Yes, I am the Great Pervert!]

_"Vous ne voulez pas me violer, oui?" _[You don't want to rape me, right?]

_"Ahh non non, je n'aime pas les petits garçons. J'aime seulement des hommes et des femmes." _[No no, I don't like little boys. I only like men and women.]

"Yeay! _Bon-papa pense que t'aimes les petits garçons." _[Gramps thinks you like little boys.]

At this the blonde Frenchman pouted.

"Oi old man, you should not spread such mean th-"

Francis froze; Bookman was gone. Lavi started chuckling.

"Yeah, Gramps is good at suddenly disappearing," the boy said cheerfully, picking up his suitcase and walking past Francis towards what looked like a spare bedroom. "Guess you've got no choice but to take care of me, huh?"

Bookman was so dead the next time Francis saw him.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"Arthur?"

"What is it ? ! This is the 5th time you've called for me!"

Arthur stood in the doorway of the spare bedroom, glaring at the white haired boy sitting up in bed looking sheepish. At first, Allen had asked for a glass of water. The second time, a lighter blanket. The third, turning the hallway light on. The fourth, turning the TV down. And now, for the fifth time, Arthur had to come and see what the boy wanted.

"Seriously Allen, I'm at my wit's end," the Brit snapped, sighing. "I'm missing all of the new Doctor Who wi-"

"I'm scared."

Arthur fell silent. Allen looked a little ashamed, refusing to meet the older man's gaze. For a while nothing was said. Then, muttering as he did so, Arthur grabbed Allen by the hand and pulled him into the living room.

"You can stay here for a while," Arthur said, pushing the young boy onto the couch and sitting beside him, huffing and looking slightly embarrassed. "B-but don't expect this treatment every time, brat."

Allen blinked a few times then gave the blonde a shy little smile, cuddling up next to him on the couch despite Arthur's protests. In silence they watched the television, Allen's eyes soon drooping and falling shut. It was only when Doctor Who had finished that Arthur noticed that the boy was even asleep.

"Idiot..."

The Brit grimaced at the child cuddling his arm and practically shuddered when some drool dribbled onto his shirt sleeve. Deciding that having drool covered bedsheets would be more preferable than a drool covered shirt, Arthur picked Allen up and placed him in the guest bed, pulling the blanket up and covering the white haired boy. Almost absentmindedly the blonde brushed a strand of hair away from the Allen's face, then froze and yanked his hand backwards, scowling.

Muttering as he went, Arthur left the bedroom and headed into the kitchen.

He needed a beer. Maybe a few beers. Or a full barrel full of the stuff.

Suddenly, the sound of a song playing caught Arthur's attention: _At the first sign of the morning light, Old Glory's in the sky. Across the pond it's the afternoon and the Union Jack flies high..._ It was the ringtone for his mobile.

Wondering who would call him at so late an hour, Arthur strided over to the kitchen counter, where he had been charging his mobile for most of the evening, picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Ach, finally! How long does it take to answer the bloody phone?"

"Oh shut it, Ròidh! I've had a very traumatic evening."

"Aww is little brother not coping well on his own?"

"Little brother is now a parent, wanker."

"WHAT ? !"

"Cross has dumped a little 6 year old boy on me for the next three years."

"... well, that's Cross for you. What are you gonna do with the wee lad?"

"Take care of him until the red headed bastard comes back from India. What else can I do in this situation?"

"..."

"So... what did you need to bother me with in the first place, brother?"

"I need to talk about something with you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"In person, you stupid Englishman."

"And what could be so damn fucking important that you need to come over? I've got enough shit to deal wi-"

"It's about ADAM."

Arthur's heart stopped.

"... Come over Friday evening, 7pm. Don't be late, or I'll kick your Haggis ass all the way back to Bonny Scotland."

And with that Arthur hung up.

Cursing his bad luck, the blonde found himself shaking as he placed the phone back down on the counter. Burying his face in his hands and letting out a string of foul swear words, Arthur sank down on the floor and whacked his head against the cupboard behind him. He knew what the news was going to be already.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"Oh would you just go to bed already, _mon petit lapin_!"

"But I can't sleep without a story!"

Francis looked up from his magazine and scowled at the pouting red head standing before him. The boy was dressed in a bunny pyjama set, a blanket clutched in his right hand trailing across the floor. Lavi's eyes glinted mischeviously as he stepped forwards and shut Francis's magazine.

"If you read me a story, I'll go straight to bed and stop bothering you," Lavi said with a sickly sweet smile, tilting his head slightly. "Or do you want me to keep ruining your evening?"

For a minute or two Francis sat in silence, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Eventually, after calling Bookman every curse word under the moon inside his head, in both French and English, the blonde stood up and stomped into the room where Lavi was sleeping.

"Come on, or do you wish to aggravate me further?" Francis snapped, flipping his hair back as he spoke. Lavi chuckled.

Walking past, humming as he did so, the heterochromatic red head got back into bed, wrinkling his nose slightly at the 'stylish' silk sheets. As soon as he was settled, Francis sat almost awkwardly on the edge of the bed, unable to think of a single story to tell.

"Are you gonna tell me a story or what?" Lavi asked, raising an eyebrow. Francis shot the boy a glare.

"I am trying to think, you little brat! _Tais-toi_!"

For a while the Frenchman sat and pondered, still internally cursing Bookman and wishing he died a very painful death. Eventually, he thought of a story and smirked evilly. Lavi gulped.

"Have you ever been told the story of Semara and The Ring?"

Suffice to say, Lavi was white as a sheet and glancing nervously at the television on the other side of the room by the end of the tale. When he was finished, Francis ruffled the boy's hair in mock affection and chuckled.

"Sweet dreams, _mon petit lapin_!"

And, with that, the blonde Frenchman turned out the light and left the room.

Practically skipping down the hallway, Francis entered the living room and went to his computer, unlocking it and logging onto his email. There was a numerous amount of emails in his inbox, most of them advertisements from porn websites, but one in particular caught his attention. It was from an old friend, one whom Francis had not seen in years. The blonde opened the email curiously and read it. And re-read it. And re-read it again.

"_Mon dieu_..."

Leaping upwards, Francis made his way quickly to his landline, face pale. He dialed the necessary numbers, and waited. Suddenly, a voice.

"Hello?"

"Tyki? It's me, Francis."

"... You got the email too, didn't you."

"_Oui_. We're in deep shit here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that. Thanks for stating the obvious."

Francis ignored the sarcasm in the man's voice and sighed, fingers tightening around the phone.

"What are we going to do? ADAM isn't supposed to be out."

"I have no idea. If we're found by ADAM or the police, we'll never see the light of day again."

For a while, silence. Then, Francis sighed again.

"... Are you free next Friday night, _mon ami_?"

"If I can get Lizzie to babysit, yes. Why?"

"Come round. We can discuss this further then."

"... Okay, got it. Be careful."

The phone went dead.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

**1) Sorry if my French is completely incorrect - please do correct me. And 2) I am open to any suggestions about interactions between characters from both animes - this fic is gonna be serious at times, but mostly comedic and fluffy. So yeah, I welcome any suggetions ^^**

**Hope you liked this and reviews would be much appreciated.**

**Oh, and one final thing - to those who read my D Gray-Man fic, Prophecy : Shin, I am trying amongst my revision to write it - I've been unable to drop it, despite promising myself a two month break XD So expect a chapter soonish?**

**Thanks again ~ xrowa-chanx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Sorry that this update is so late – exams are finally over for me, so I can write again *heart***

**Thank you to Silvereyedfreak, Geeres, Will This Night-Drag-On, CharraCharraNya, sammi117, DeathGirl-Chan, Yudanaelle, Knakx, Hibatsulova1827 0-0, Mii-Chan 24, AliasAlliance, and Summer Jonuim for reviewing/favouriting/subscribing. Seriously, I was not expecting this much love from the first chapter XD *hugs everyone***

**Oh btw – I really can't edit/draw and would love to have a story header for this fic. If anyone is willing to do that for me, I will reward you with a oneshot of your choice *grins* And I can write smut, for those who want it ;3**

**So, here's chapter 2 – enjoy everyone! :'3**

**(NOTE: I wrote most of this chapter whilst listening to Futari Jikan by Kenichi Suzumura and Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco – hence why it is full of fluff XDXD)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own D Gray Man or Hetalia - if I did, an official crossover would exist between them already *laughs***

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Homeostasis – Chapter 2

The morning sun rose on another day in Brighton, England. Soft orange rays of light filtered through a crack in the curtains of Arthur's bedroom, slowly illuminating the slightly unkept and messy room as daylight dawned. Random items of clothing could be seen here and there on the floor; shirts, ties, trousers, boxers, socks. Beside a handsome oak wardrobe, on a small tabletop near to the bed where Arthur slept, there lay a picture frame. Arthur and another man, with short blonde hair, glasses and a huge grin, were standing side-by-side.

The frame had a crack in it.

As the sun rose, light glinted on the picture frame's surface. This light illuminated Arthur's face, making him squint and bury his face into the pillow beneath his head.

More time passed.

At around 9 o'clock, Arthur's eyes opened blearily to inquisitive silver ones staring right back at him.

"WAAAAAHHH!"

Leaping backwards, and whacking his head rather hard on the wall behind him, Arthur stared with wide eyes at the boy beside his bed. It took him awhile to remember what had happened the day before.

"... Arthur?" Allen asked, looking confused and slightly afraid. The silver haired child was already dressed, wearing the same clothes as the day before, and looked as if he had been waiting for something for quite a while by the way he was sitting on the floor, back resting against the wardrobe behind him.

"Ah. Sorry. I... ah, never mind," Arthur stammered, rubbing the back of his head and sighing irritably. He looked back up at Allen. "Why are you...?"

The boy blushed a little from embarrassment.

"I-I was getting hungry b-but... I didn't want to..."

Arthur blinked a few times before sighing.

"Fine, I'll go make you some breakfast."

The blonde got out of bed, stretching as he walked into the kitchen. If this was a normal day, he'd be having a lovely hot shower and then treating himself to scones with cream and jam for breakfast.

This wasn't a normal day. In fact, Arthur doubted any day would be normal after Allen's arrival.

Yawning, Arthur opened the pantry and took out a bag of crumpets. He turned around to find Allen beside him; the boy was eyeing the crumpets like a lion would its prey.

"... umm..."

The boy looked up as Arthur spoke and, upon seeing Arthur's slightly scared expression, blushed, apologised and walked backward a few steps. The blonde Englishman sighed.

This was going to take some getting used to.

"How many would you like?" Arthur asked, opening the bag with a knife and taking out two for himself.

"... all of them?"

Arthur blinked then turned around. Allen looked embarrassed, and awfully thin to Arthur's eyes. The blonde scowled.

"You better eat them all then," came the irritated reply.

After grumbling under his breath about children and their bottomless greedy stomachs, Arthur put four crumpets in the toaster and waited for them to be cooked. When they were done, he put four more in and buttered the cooked ones, placing them on a plate.

"Would you like jam with the-"

Arthur got no further, for Allen took the four crumpets and ate them so quickly that Arthur wondered whether the boy intended to choke himself. The silver haired child swallowed with little difficulty and gave the blonde man a smile.

"Could I have some more please?"

This was going to be a very long morning indeed.

After cooking two more bags worth of crumpets, and using nearly all of a pot of butter in the process, Allen's hunger was eventually satisfied. Arthur had only eaten two crumpets with butter and jam, and sat astounded as the boy before him ate what seemed like his body mass in food.

"A-are you done now?" Arthur asked tentatively, looking nervously at his pantry and wondering how much food he was going to have to buy from now on. Allen nodded and beamed happily.

"Yes, thank you," the boy replied politely. "I'm sorry you had to cook so much..."

"It's fine..." Arthur muttered begrudgingly. "Do you always eat that much?"

"Umm... yeah..." Allen admitted, looking embarrassed. "Sorry..."

Arthur remained silent and hoped to God that he got a bonus at work to help pay for the sheer amount of food that he was going to have to buy.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

_I love you. Baby I'm not a monster ~_

Francis woke with a groan, shoving his mobile off of the table beside his bed and burying his head deep into his quilt. He had never quite got round to changing his alarm tone – Im Yong Soo, a washer-upper at the restaurant where he worked, had downloaded a load of k-pop songs onto Francis's phone and insisted that the best way to wake up every morning was to Big Bang.

Francis begged to differ.

Still, he couldn't be bothered to change it. So he woke to 'Monster' every morning anyway.

Stretching with a yawn, Francis sat up and looked around his bedroom with sleepy blue eyes. His clothes were all neatly put away, for the Frenchman hated his clothes getting ruffled and wrinkled by putting them on the floor. Except if it was before having sex. Then it was fine.

Getting out of bed slowly, like a cat that's been napping for too long, Francis eventually stood up and walked into the hallway outside. The floorboards were cold, but the blonde didn't mind very much.

When he reached the kitchen, the blonde opened up a bread bin and took out a bag of croissants. Eating one cold with relish, and putting the other in the microwave for a few dozen seconds, Francis leant against the counter and sighed.

Just another morning.

Then he remembered the day before. And swore violently in French.

Having completely forgotten that he was now taking care of a mischievous ten year old boy, who was too intelligent for his age and far too obsessed with rabbits, Francis dithered for a few minutes, then groaned and made his way to the spare bedroom with a scowl.

Opening the door, Francis saw that the red headed boy was still fast asleep, one leg hanging over the bed and mouth wide open in what Francis viewed as quite idiotic.

"_Bonne matin, mon petit lapin_," Francis called, kicking the bed so that the boy jolted out of bed with a cry. "If you want breakfast, you have to get out of bed."

Lavi sat up blearily on the floor and blinked, yawning then rubbing his eyes.

"'Kay..."

Stumbling past the Frenchman with heavy feet, Lavi headed into the kitchen and sat down at the nearest countertop, after struggling to climb up onto a stool to sit on. Francis followed close behind, and begrudgingly gave the red head the croissant from the microwave, putting another one in to warm up for himself.

"_Merci beaucoup_!" Lavi said sleepily, biting into the warm pastry and closing his eyes as the delicious buttery flakes melted on his tongue. Francis rolled his eyes slightly and smiled a little.

"_Il n'y a pas de quoi_." [You're welcome.]

For a while they both sat in silence, Francis eating his own croissant whilst staring out of the nearby window. The sun had risen high into the sky; there were no clouds to mar the sunshine that morning. The sun's rays lit up his living room, the white leather couches almost shining as the light touched them. The television set in the corner of the room reflected the sunlight brightly, and the distant sound of seagulls and the sea made Francis smile.

It reminded the Frenchman of his arrival to England when he was a child; the warm sunshine, the sound of lapping waves against the ferry, the White Cliffs of Dover in the distance, signifying the coastline of an entirely different country, with its own rules and lifestyles and cultures and foods.

Horrible foods, but foods nonetheless.

And though Francis missed his home country, especially when the weather turned foul and pathetic sheets of rain made everything murky and miserable (which happened often, unfortunately), he did like England.

However, just because he liked the country, didn't mean he had to like the people who lived there. Englishmen annoyed Francis more than any race he had ever had to live with.

His train of thought was interrupted as Lavi got clumsily off of the stool, and placed his plate in the nearby dishwasher without being told. Francis blinked.

"I'm gonna go get dressed!" Lavi called, heading to the spare room with a skip to his step.

The blonde sighed and decided to make himself some coffee, turning around to turn on the espresso machine behind him. Soon enough, Francis had made himself a steaming mug of hot black coffee – just the way he liked it.

Just as he was finishing the remains of his drink, Lavi walked into the kitchen dressed and ready. The red head was wearing jeans, a plain white top and a black hoodie with bunny ears on the hood. Francis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"_Mon dieu_," he muttered. Lavi cocked his head.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing..."

"Okay..."

Silence. Then –

"So... what are we doing today?"

Francis looked at the boy before him and frowned.

"I... don't know..."

The blonde realised that he hadn't actually thought about what he was going to do with his life, now that he had to take care of Lavi until Bookman came back. He worked every evening except Fridays and Sundays; who would watch the red head whilst he was at work? He certainly couldn't bring the boy to work with him. And didn't the kid have to go to school?

"I am killing Bookman the next time we see him, _d'accord_?" Francis muttered mutinously, burying his face in his hands and sighing.

First ADAM, now this. There was only so much that Francis could deal with all at once.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"I'm going to be broke by the end of this..."

Arthur looked at the bags of clothes and food in his hands and sighed, knowing that his bank statement at the end of the month was not going to be pleasing. Allen had been brought to live with him with no spare clothes whatsoever, so Arthur had no choice but to head into the inner city with the boy and find him clothes to wear, and buy the endless supplies of food that Allen was going to need.

Allen also needed a school to go to, but Arthur wasn't quite ready to sort that out just yet.

"Why didn't Cross let you go to school?" Arthur asked, holding Allen's hand as best he could amongst all the bags he was holding. It had really bothered him at first, holding Allen's hand. But the streets were very busy, as were the pavements on which they were walking on, and Arthur knew that he couldn't let the 6 year old boy walk on his own and get lost.

"He said it wasn't safe..." Allen answered quietly, flinching a little as someone sped past on roller-skates. "So he taught me to write and read at home."

For a while Arthur was silent. Not knowing where Allen used to live, but guessing that anywhere where Cross lived couldn't be very safe for a little boy, Arthur didn't ask anymore questions.

"Well, while you're here with me, I guess you need somewhere to go..." Arthur murmured, looking left and right before crossing a road to reach the car park in front of them. "But I'll sort that out later, hopefully with some help."

Allen simply nodded, looking slightly nervous. He had noticed that the blonde man beside him was far from comfortable with taking care of him, and the fear of being abandoned by the man scared Allen greatly. But, in a way, he still trusted Arthur.

He was far better than Cross at any rate.

When the pair of them reached Arthur's navy coloured, and slightly battered, Mini Cooper, Arthur put all of the bags with some difficulty into the boot of the car, and then helped Allen into the passenger seat. Getting into the driver's seat, and turning the engine on, Arthur drove away with the radio playing quietly in the background.

Driving past the sea front, Arthur snuck a glance at the open sea to their left before concentrating on the road, smiling. He liked the sea. It brought him a sense of peace, and he had lived by the sea as a child.

As they stopped at a pair of traffic lights, Arthur looked beside him and noticed that Allen was staring at the sea with a look of awe, a bright happy smile on the boy's face. And, as the lights turned green and they started to drive away from the seafront, Allen's face fell noticeably.

Arthur sighed and looked away, trying to ignore the downtrodden expression on Allen's face. He stopped at another pair of traffic lights. And looked at Allen. Then looked away. Then looked back at him. Then looked away again.

"Oh screw it."

As the lights turned green, Arthur turned left instead of right and headed back towards the sea with a scowl. Allen blinked, eyes wide.

"... Huh?"

"D-don't expect this every time we go, brat!" Arthur snapped, looking slightly embarrassed. "I fancied a cold beer by the sea, that's all."

After a minute or two of silence, Allen smiled warmly.

"Okay."

Soon enough, the pair of them were at the seaside again. Finding somewhere to park took forever, but eventually Arthur and Allen were walking hand-in-hand along the cobbled beach (because Allen kept tripping on the stones as they walked, Arthur told himself vehemently), the warm afternoon sunshine warming the rocks beneath their feet. Finding a pub nearby, Arthur went inside and ordered a pint of Stella for himself, and a small carton of mango juice for Allen.

Sitting on a wall, the beach beneath them and the road behind them, Arthur and Allen enjoyed their drinks as the sun moved across the sky.

"Thank you, Arthur," Allen said quietly, smiling at the man beside him as he drank from his carton. Arthur blinked a few times then looked away, scowling a little.

"Y-you're welcome..."

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"Where does this go?"

Francis turned around and looked down at Lavi, who was holding a bottle of wine with a somewhat dubious expression. They had just come back from going shopping, and the red head started obediently helping Francis put stuff away without being asked.

Lavi surprised Francis – at times, he seemed like a spoilt brat that had to be instructed just so he did something. Then, at other times, the boy would do things to help off of his own back, smiling and humming as he did so without a care in the world.

He would figure him out soon enough, Francis thought.

"It goes in the cupboard next to the fridge," Francis answered, kicking said cupboard to make sure Lavi knew which one he was referring to. The red head nodded and opened the door to the compartment, placing the bottle amongst a few others already in there before shutting the door.

"Does wine taste nice?" Lavi asked curiously, picking up a bag of bread and placing it in the bread bin on tip-toes. Francis chuckled.

"_Oui_, wine tastes very nice," the blonde replied, smiling. "You can try it when you're older, _mon petit lapin_."

Lavi pouted, but nodded and continued to help put away until there was nothing left. By the time they were done, it was coming round to mid-afternoon and the sun was high in the sky. Francis stretched then looked around, knowing that there wasn't really anything else to do.

"What now, Froggy?" Lavi asked, grinning. Francis froze.

"... what?"

"Huh? I said, what now Frog-"

"I AM NOT A FROG!"

The loud outcry from Francis surprised Lavi, and he stepped backwards a few steps fearfully.

"U-uhh... sorry?"

Francis scowled then sighed.

"_Non non_, it's fine," he murmured, sighing. "There is just a very annoying man who calls me a frog and it irritates me, _mon petit lapin_."

"Ah, okay..." Lavi said, sitting down on the floor and stretching.

For a while the both of them were silent, lost in their thoughts. Then, standing up and smiling, Lavi pulled on the edge of Francis' shirt.

"Hey, hey, can we go to the beach?"

Francis looked down and blinked.

"... sure, why not," he replied, shrugging.

So, getting a jacket from his room, Francis opened the door to his flat, closing and locking it behind Lavi. The two of them headed downstairs.

Just as they were heading downstairs, Francis noticed a man standing outside what he knew was Arthur's apartment. The man had blonde hair but, apart from that, Francis didn't know who the man was.

"Can I help you?" Francis asked, looking at the blonde curiously. The man turned around and gave Francis a smile.

"Yeah, can you tell me when the guy who lives here comes back? He needed a favour off me about a primary school," the man replied; he had an Australian accent.

"A... primary school?" Francis echoed, scowling. The man nodded.

"Listen, I need to be somewhere right now so could you tell him that someone called Reever will be back to see him at 6 o'clock?" the man, who Francis presumed to be Reever, answered. Then, with a wave, the Australian walked past Francis and Lavi and left the two of them alone.

"Do you know the guy who lives there?" Lavi asked curiously, turning toward Francis with inquisitive eyes. Francis sighed, scowling.

"Unfortunately, yes. Yes I do," the blonde replied, looking more and more pissed off as he stared at the door before him. Pulling a notepad out of his pocket, that he kept there when he needed to collect girl's numbers when the time arose, Francis scribbled a quick note and shoved it under the door before him.

Turning away and heading down the stairs, dragging Lavi with him whilst muttering under his breath, Francis exited the apartment complex and headed to the cars parked in the lot beside the building. He unlocked his silver Audi TT, and noticed that Arthur's car was gone. He sighed.

"Get in, _mon petit lapin_," Francis said, feeling a headache coming on as he gestured to the passenger door. Lavi nodded and got in, buckling himself up and waiting patiently for Francis to get into the car, put his seatbelt on, and turn the engine on. Soon enough, the two of them were heading down the street towards the inner city some 20 minutes away.

"Thanks Froggy!" Lavi cried, smiling happily as they drove away from the apartment building. Francis' eyebrow twitched at the nickname, but he got the feeling that Lavi would call him it more if he told him off. So, instead, he turned towards the boy beside him and stuck his tongue out childishly.

"You're welcome, _Monsieur_ Mismatched."

Lavi scowled.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I have mismatched eyes!"

"And it's not my fault that I am French. So shut up."

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

The roads were quiet as Arthur drove back to his apartment, This Love by Maroon 5 playing quietly on the radio as he drove. Allen sat quietly without saying a word the whole journey back, smiling contentedly as he stared out the window.

When they reached the apartment building, Arthur parked and noticed that Francis' car was gone. Sighing and thinking that the Frenchman was out getting girls, as per usual, Arthur turned the engine off and got out of the car. Allen managed to get himself out of the car, though he couldn't shut the car door without Arthur's help, and soon the two of them were heading up the flights of stairs with their many bags to Arthur's flat.

Putting the bags down with a huff, Arthur unlocked the door in front of him, opened it and stepped inside, picking the bags back up as he went. Just as Allen was about to follow him inside, the boy noticed a small piece of paper on the floor.

"Arthur? There's a note here," Allen said quietly, picking the note up and handing it to Arthur. The blonde frowned then frowned even more when he recognised Francis' 'girly' handwriting.

_To the idiotic rosbif,_

_Some Australian guy called Reever wanted to see you earlier about a primary school. Need to re-educate yourself, do we? He said he'd be back at six._

_You smell like gone off German potato remains._

_Much love, Francis Bonnefoy._

_P.S. The blockage in your drainage system was because of me ;'D xxxxxxx_

"I KNEW IT WAS HIM!"

Allen jumped and gave a small squeak as Arthur suddenly shouted.

"A-A-A-Arthur?"

The blonde started laughing evilly as he started to hatch a revenge plan; his drain had been blocked for months, meaning that his sinks flooded on a regular basis. And, now that he knew it was Francis...

Arthur stopped, however, when he realised that he was terrifying Allen, who was eyeing the front door as if he wanted to run for his life.

"Ah, sorry," Arthur apologised. "I just... the man who wrote this note is a very... annoying... man. And he's French."

"What's wrong with the French?"

"_Everything_ is wrong with the French."

For a while the both of them were silent, Allen staring at Arthur with a somewhat concerned-for-his-sanity sort of look, whilst Arthur continued to look at the note and his sinks with an evil glint in his eye.

"C-can I help put the shopping away?" Allen asked tentatively, fiddling with the ribbon around his neck nervously. Arthur blinked a few times then nodded.

"Sure. You can put your clothes away somewhere afterwards," Arthur replied, stretching a little and trying to leave his revenge planning for when Allen wasn't around.

Soon enough, all of the food that Arthur bought was put away (with much difficulty). The blonde hoped that the food would last them awhile, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him that wasn't going to happen.

When 6 o'clock eventually arrived, and a knock on the door reverberated around the apartment, Arthur got up from the couch and opened the front door.

"Hey Reever!" Arthur said happily, giving the man before him a smile. Reever smiled in reply and walked into the apartment, shrugging his coat off.

"I was going to come round earlier, but you weren't in," the Australian murmured, sitting down on the couch with a huff. "And my daughter decided she wanted to go shopping and needed me to ferry her there. I feel like a taxi."

Arthur's eyebrow twitched; he hoped Allen didn't turn out like that.

"Whiskey?" Arthur asked. Reever nodded eagerly.

Soon enough, the two men were sitting down with the television playing in the background, enjoying their glasses of whiskey with relish. Allen was still sorting his new belongings out, so the two men were left alone.

"So, why do you need my help?" Reever asked, turning towards his friend curiously. "Doing a favour for someone else and their kid?"

"... no, actually..." Arthur replied after a while, looking awkward. "Do you remember Cross?"

"Yes I do," Reever answered, face darkening. "Wasn't he the one who set the fire alarm off at your work that time?"

Arthur nodded; that had not been a good day.

"Well... Cross left me to take care of someone..."

"Someone?"

"A little boy."

"... his?"

"No... I don't think so, anyway..."

Reever sighed, slumping in his seat and downing the rest of his glass.

"You're in some fine trouble here then, aren't you."

"I really am."

Silence. Then –

"So, I'm guessing the kid's here right now then?" the Australian asked, putting his empty glass on the table before him. Arthur nodded.

"Allen!" he called loudly, putting his glass down also. After a few seconds, they heard the sound of running footsteps on carpet. Then, looking a little confused, Allen stood in the doorway to the living room and tilted his head.

"This is Reever Wenham. He's a good friend of mine," Arthur explained, smiling reassuringly as he noticed Allen's nervousness. Reever smiled also.

"Nice to meet you!" the blonde Australian said cheerfully, offering the silver haired boy a hand. Allen took it and shook it with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"What's your name?" Reever asked.

"Allen Walker."

"Well then Allen, would you like to go to the school where I work?"

Allen was silent for a while before he nodded. Reever smiled and turned towards Arthur.

"I'm sure I can fit him into the Year 1 class," the man said. "Just give me a week or two, and I'll get him enrolled."

"Thank you," Arthur replied with a grateful smile. "I owe you one."

"It's fine mate," Reever answered with a laugh. "Good luck taking care of him."

The rest of the evening passed quite quickly. Since it was getting reasonably late, Reever had to leave to be back in time for dinner at home, so the blonde man left and the apartment became quiet once more.

Arthur didn't often have people round – he saw people at work, and he had a few friends from university (like Reever). But he was quite a solitary man most of the time.

At least, after Alfred he was.

Pushing thoughts of his ex away with a pained expression, Arthur set about preparing dinner for himself and Allen. Ignoring what he deemed as normal portions, he made the silver haired boy three plates full of spaghetti bolognaise.

Allen still needed to eat two whole baguettes of garlic bread afterwards before he had eaten enough.

After dinner, the two of them settled down in front of the television, mindlessly watching QI and Michael McIntyre (though Allen didn't get most, or any, of the jokes said). When 11 o'clock rolled by, Arthur put Allen to bed.

Luckily for Arthur, the boy dropped off almost the instant his head touched the pillow. They had been walking a lot that day, so it was no surprise that Allen was so tired.

Arthur himself stayed up for an hour or so more, enjoying a small glass of gin and tonic before deciding to have a shower. The hot water soothed the blonde, and memories of the day passed through his mind.

He was in no way used to being a parent. Just the morning before, he had been your regular twenty-something year old, single and recently dumped, spending nights alone getting drunk before the television and days spent either working or lazing around at home.

So, to have a child suddenly dropped on him and being expected to provide and be there for said child, was still a shock for Arthur.

Allen was shy, quiet, easily frightened but also very polite and kind-hearted. The boy probably hadn't had an easy time with Cross; Arthur knew Cross well enough to know the man was not a daddy sort of person.

But, in a way, Arthur didn't mind taking care of Allen. He was no longer going to be alone, and he had someone to occupy his time, someone to cook for, and clean for, and spend time with.

Allen filled the hole that Alfred had left behind.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

**To clarify – yes, this story is still a FrUK. But there's some past USUK, if you get what I mean :) This is also set in modern day, in case anyone was confused about the time period XD**

**Hope you liked the chapter, and stay tuned for chapter 3. Please give me some feedback, and any offers for a story header would be much appreciated.**

**Thanks again for the lovely feedback for the last chapter!**

**xrowa-chanx**


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, first off I am so sorry! I should have updated this ages ago :( But I got preoccupied with oneshots that I've owed people for ages, and new ideas for fics, and my main story as well. Sorry guys...

Well, I'm back again so it's all good XD And all my oneshot requests are done too. So enjoy this chapter everyone!

Oh! By the way, here are the country names for people, in case some of you don't know who I'm referring to XD

**England - Arthur Kirkland**

**Scotland - Ròidh Kirkland**

**France - Francis Bonnefoy**

**America - Alfred F. Jones**

**South Korea - Im Yong Soo**

**Prussia - Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**Russia - Ivan Braginski**

**Hungary - Erzsébet "Lizzie" Hedérváry**

**Ireland - Pádraig O'Clery**

**Australia - Cody Walters**

**Sealand - Peter Kirkland**

**Wales - Brynn Kirkland**

**Northern Ireland - Áron Kirkland**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own D Gray Man or Hetalia - if I did, an official crossover would exist between them already *laughs*

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Homeostasis - Chapter 3

The days seemed to pass Francis by quite quickly, ever since Lavi's arrival.

When they came back from the beach, after having drinks on the seafront as the sun set, Francis had no choice but to leave the young red head at home alone while he worked. He didn't trust his friends with young children, apart from Tyki, who was busy enough babysitting his own little sister, nevermind Francis' new tagalong.

Francis had spent his entire shift that evening worrying that Lavi was tearing his apartment apart, and all sorts of ridiculous situations entered his head. Francis grew to be so distracted by the whole thing that he ended up being hit on the head so hard by Klaud that she dented a ladle.

By the time 10 o'clock rolled by, which was when Francis' shift usually ended, the blonde practically legged it to his car and drove home faster than he should have done. All he could think of by the time he reached the apartment was that he was lucky not to have been caught by the police.

Francis unlocked his door, for he had locked Lavi in when he left at 7 earlier on in the evening, and opened it to find that everything was fine.

Lavi had made himself some beans on toast, since the empty can was still on the side and the smell of burnt toast filled the kitchen, and he had washed up the stuff he had used. Francis found the little red head curled up on one of the couches, MTV playing quietly in the background.

Francis found himself smiling as he gently picked Lavi up and took him to the spare bedroom, tucking him under the covers and turning out the lights.

The blonde then spent the rest of his evening drinking wine and relaxing to music, before going to bed at around 1 o'clock. When he woke up the next morning, he walked into the kitchen to find Lavi making toast. He had made Francis some, but the poor blonde could not eat the blackened bit of charcoal that Lavi passed for toast.

The rest of that day, and the next, and the next, all passed in pretty much the same fashion. Albeit on the third day of Lavi staying with him, Francis asked around about primary schools. He eventually found one nearby, which was within walking distance from the apartment, so he decided to go for it and send Lavi there. He was told they'd have to wait a week or so before Lavi could be enrolled into their Year 5 class, which was fine.

So, eventually, Friday finally arrived.

Francis felt nervous, which was strange for him for he usually was quite laid back about most things. But the subject matter which was going to be discussed with Tyki that evening was serious enough to make the Frenchman feel like he was going to be sick for most of the day.

Luckily enough for him, Lavi did not seem to notice. Francis caught the red head giving him a few serious looks throughout the day, but he didn't say anything and acted as if everything was normal.

The problem was, Francis knew for a fact that Lavi would eavesdrop if he was in the apartment whilst he and Tyki talked. So he needed a babysitter. Which was going to be difficult in itself.

Francis tried everyone, even people that he wouldn't really trust with Lavi. But the people he called all seemed to be busy; Gilbert was at a party, and refused to cancel to babysit. Antonio was having a meal out with his boyfriend, and also refused to cancel. Sheryl, Tyki's brother, said he was busy. In a way, Francis was glad for he wouldn't want to be in the same room as that man unless you paid him with very good prostitutes and expensive wine.

Francis even tried asking a few work colleagues, like Im Yong Soo and Chaoji, but they were unable to as well.

There was only one more person Francis could turn to. And he didn't know whether his pride could take it.

At around 2 o'clock on that Friday, Francis headed down the stairs and waited in front of Arthur's front door, stalling and being unable to knock on the door before him. He _really_ didn't want to ask for Arthur's help, especially because he'd never hear the end of it about him taking care of a child.

But, Francis had no choice. He couldn't let Lavi know about what was going on tonight, for the red head's own safety, not just because Francis didn't want him to know for personal reasons.

Knocking on the door, swearing under his breath in French as he did so, Francis waited for the door to open.

He thought he was going to have a heart attack when a young silver haired boy answered the door.

"Hello," the boy said quietly, looking up at Francis with wide silver eyes. "Who are you?"

For a long time Francis couldn't even say anything, too confused by who this child was and what he was doing in Arthur's apartment. Even though they hated each other, Francis knew of and had met most of Arthur's friends and previous lovers. He knew none of them had a child that had silver hair and eyes.

"Allen? Who's at the door?"

Before Francis or Allen could reply, Arthur walked into the living room and saw what was going on. Walking forwards and standing behind Allen, Arthur met Francis' gaze and glared with emerald eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here, Frog?" Arthur asked, gritting his teeth. "Come to fix the drains that you blocked, hmm?"

Arthur's voice was laced with evil intent, and Francis noticed how the poor boy between them was beginning to look rather scared.

"No matter how much fun it is to rile you, _mon ami_, I actually need some help. Though I cannot believe it has come to this..."

"Me? Help you? Why the bloody hell should I?" Arthur demanded incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "Do I have to give you a long list of reasons why I can and never will help you?"

"Oh just quit it, Arthur!" Francis snapped, clenching his fists. He was already on edge about ADAM, and did not need nor want an argument while he was so tense. "I really need someone to babysit for me."

Arthur froze, blinking.

"B... babysit?" Arthur repeated, looking confused. "What for? Have you got some poor gal knocked up with your stupid French di-"

"A friend of mine is going abroad for a couple of years, and needs me to take care of his kid," Francis explained, sighing. "I'm having someone over for dinner tonight, and I need someone to take care of him, _d'accord_?"

Arthur was silent for a long time, knowing that Francis wasn't lying. He would have found this situation funny at any other time, but being in exactly the same situation as the man before him left Arthur unable to find it humorous.

"Well... I would help, but as you can see," Arthur stated, looking down at Allen. "I'm having the same problem, and no-one can babysit for me, either."

"Well that's just perfect, isn't it..."

Both Francis and Arthur sighed, momentarily joined in a unanimous hatred for the friends that had put them in this position. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose, Arthur looked up.

"If I have to, I can put your kid and Allen at work. If I lock everything, and call them while I'm having dinner, then it should be okay..."

"... Fine..." Francis muttered after a while, looking annoyed at having to be in this position at all. "Don't expect anything from me in return though, _mon petit rosbif_."

And, with that, Francis headed back upstairs, ignoring the angry shouts from Arthur as he did so. Chuckling, for annoying the Brit always brought him such entertainment, Francis entered his apartment to find Lavi sitting down on the couch, watching cartoons.

"Oh, you're back," Lavi commented, turning away from Adventure Time to look up at Francis. "Found someone to babysit me yet?"

"In a way," Francis replied cryptically. "It turns out that a... friend... is also having a similar problem. So his child and you are staying at his work for a little while."

"Oh, okay... Where does he work?" Lavi asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, just in some shitty bookshop down the high str-"

"FROGGY, I LOVE YOU!"

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Francis waited patiently outside of Arthur's apartment, tapping his foot irritably. It was 6 o'clock, and Francis had dinner cooking unsupervised in his apartment above them.

"Hurry up, you damn British scum..." Francis hissed under his breath, glaring at the door in front of him as if it would somehow make Arthur hurry up.

Lavi sniggered a little as Francis said this, ignoring the sharp look he received in return.

After a few more minutes of waiting, where Francis swore he was going to kick the door down if he had to, the door opened to reveal Arthur and Allen, dressed in coats and ready to go.

Arthur gave Francis a glare before looking down at Lavi, blinking a few times before he smiled.

"Hello there, nice to meet you," Arthur said politely. "My name's Arthur."

"I'm Lavi! Nice to meetcha too, Caterpillar!" Lavi said in reply, grinning obliviously as Arthur blanched and flushed a little in embarrassment. Francis laughed, receiving a punch in the face in reply, whilst Allen gave a little quiet chuckle, giving Lavi a shy smile.

"So, what's your name?" Lavi asked, eyeing the silver haired boy before him curiously. "And why's your hair white?"

"My name is Allen. And my hair's always been like this," Allen replied, smiling at Lavi and extending a hand, which Lavi shook with a laugh.

The two of them then waited for Arthur and Francis to stop fighting and, after they had pulled on each other's hair enough seemingly, Francis bid Lavi goodbye and went back upstairs.

"Come on, you two," Arthur grumbled, rubbing his head with a wince.

Nodding, and following the blonde man out of the building, the three of them got into Arthur's Mini and headed into the city centre.

"So," Arthur said, turning his head slightly to look at Lavi, who was sitting in the back with Allen. "How are you connected to the Frog then?"

"Gramps has been friends with him for years, though I only met him for the first time the other day," Lavi answered, grinning. "They met in some brothel in Paris, apparently."

"That really doesn't surprise me..." Arthur muttered, scowling as he turned back towards the road. "Has he found you a primary school yet? Knowing him, he's probably done absolutely fu-"

"I'm starting at the one down the road next week," Lavi interrupted.

"Oh, that's where I'm going," Allen said brightly, giving Lavi a shy smile. He then leant forwards and turned towards Arthur eagerly. "Right, Arthur?"

"Y-yes, you are..."

Arthur scowled a little; Francis never usually acted like this. The blonde, apparently, had spent most of his university days smoking weed, getting drunk, and having sex. He never handed his work in on time, and was threatened almost constantly that he was going to be kicked off of his degree.

The only thing that kept Francis on the course was pure charm and bribery on his part.

So why was Francis going to so much effort for Lavi, when Arthur knew for a fact that the Frenchman hated children? Even if he was doing a favour for a friend, Francis wouldn't make an effort to help the child, or pay much attention to it.

So why was Francis doing it now?

Arthur gave an irritable sigh, turning the radio up to try and calm himself down; thinking of Francis did nothing but piss him off. For a little while it was just people speaking, then Drive By started to play.

"Ah I love this song!" Lavi cried happily, grinning. Allen nodded in agreement and, much to Arthur's annoyance, the two of them started to sing along to the song rather loudly.

On one hand, Arthur found the site of the two boys singing and looking so happy quite heart warming. Then, on the other hand, it reminded him awfully of how Alfred had been. He always sang, even if Arthur told him off for it.

Drive By had been one of his favourite songs too.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, and trying not to think of anything but the road in front of him, Arthur eventually brought the three of them to a quiet side street near the city centre, about 10 minutes away from the seaside.

"We're here," Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes with a sigh as he got out of the car. Allen and Lavi followed suit, and both turned to look at the dark shop before them. Unlocking the front door of the shop and turning the main lights on, Arthur stepped inside and couldn't help but smile a little.

For a little while after university, Arthur struggled to find a job. With his English Literature degree, he found it hard to find anything worthwhile to work as. He most certainly didn't want to be a teacher, and being a journalist had never appealed to him.

Then one of his friends from uni got in touch with him, saying he had obtained an old bookstore from his father. When Bak Chan, his friend, offered him a job there, Arthur nearly jumped for joy at the opportunity.

Ever since then, Arthur had worked in the shop. It was like a safe haven for him when the whole world turned upside down, for Bak was always there with weird Asian brands of tea and a willingness to listen to Arthur's ramblings.

He had been especially good to Arthur when Alfred broke up with him.

"Please behave, and don't leave the shop," Arthur stated, giving both Allen and Lavi serious looks. "I will phone later to see if you are okay. Oh, and there's food in the back room."

Lavi and Allen nodded, both smiling reassuringly up at Arthur. The blonde gave them one last warning glance before he left the shop, shutting and locking the door behind him. As he got into his car, turning the engine back on and driving down the road, Arthur found himself wondering if the two of them would be okay.

He knew Allen would behave himself, but Arthur didn't know about Lavi at all. On first impression, the little red head seemed quite mischevious. But, at the same time, Arthur could sense a more mature side to Lavi.

Arthur just hoped that everything would turn out okay, including dinner with his brother.

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

Francis sat and waited, nervously fiddling with a strand of his hair as he idly watched television, not even aware of what he was watching. Dinner was almost ready, the smell of lasagne and garlic bread filling the whole apartment.

It was gone 7 o'clock, but only by 5 minutes or so. Even so, it felt like Tyki was many hours late, and Francis was so tense by the time the doorbell rung that he jumped, blue eyes wide.

Standing up, and trying to calm down his racing heart and frayed nerves, Francis walked towards the front door and opened it.

"_Bonjour, mon ami_," Francis said with a smile. "Do come in."

Standing in the doorway, dressed in a leather jacket, plain white tee, and grey skinny jeans, was Tyki Mikk. The tanned brunette gave Francis a smile, and entered the apartment with a satisfied sigh as he smelt what was cooking in the oven.

"Just one of the perks of having a chef for a friend," Tyki stated, chuckling a little. Francis laughed and shut the door, shaking his head a little.

Getting the both of them glasses of wine, the two of them soon settled down on Francis' white couches, sipping from their drinks and making small talk as they waited for dinner to be ready.

Francis spoke about Lavi, and how much he wanted to kill Bookman, which Tyki found so amusing that he nearly fell off the couch whilst he was laughing. He also mentioned Arthur, and how he was in exactly the same boat as himself.

Tyki then discussed his own affairs, and how he wished Road would behave better and stop setting fire to things with candles. He also mentioned his brother, and how he was beginning to get concerned by his unhealthy interest in Road.

Soon enough dinner was ready. Placing their food on plates, and sitting down at the table, Francis and Tyki ate their lasagne, laughing and drinking to try and lighten the mood before the heavy conversation began.

It was going to make the end of the evening rather unpleasant.

"Well, might as well get this over and done with," Tyki stated with a sigh, downing his glass and pouring himself some more wine from a nearby half-empty bottle.

"_Malheuresement_..." Francis replied. [Unfortunately...]

The two of them were silent for a while, staring down into their glasses contemplatively. Then, Tyki put his glass down and got out a small notepad from a pocket in his jacket, which was slung over the back of his chair.

Francis picked the book up and saw on the first page a series of names; some were underlined, some with stars beside them, some left blank, and some crossed out. Francis saw his name and Tyki's included within it, stars beside their names.

"This shows both all the past and current members of ADAM," Tyki explained, tone serious now as he turned to face Francis. "As you can see, the stars mean members who have left and are no longer willing to return to the group."

"I didn't know Link left, as well as us two and Lizzie," Francis muttered, frowning a little. "I thought he was pretty loyal to ADAM right up until the end."

"I got an email from him two days ago, saying he refused to join again," Tyki stated quietly, sighing. "To be honest, that doesn't surprise me after He got captured."

Francis nodded, shuddering a little.

"And what about the names with lines through them? I don't recall knowing either a Mana or Neah Walker, and why is Pádraig's name crossed out...?"

"They were killed off for being traitors before we joined. And Pádraig... he was found dead in his apartment yesterday..."

Francis fell silent, closing his eyes and sighing at the death of another friend.

"He was a good man," Francis murmured softly, picking up his glass and drinking it all. Tyki nodded in agreement.

"He never hid his dislike of the group though," Tyki added. "I'm not surprised by his death at all..."

"Agreed... So, the current members are Him, that Russian _bâtard_, Gil, Winters Socalo, and Cody Walters," Francis said after a while, sitting up in his chair, closing the book quietly. "What are we going to do about this, _mon ami_? Will they leave us be?"

"From what Link said, we have the choice to re-join or stay out of things," Tyki answered. "As for the consequences of not joining again... I don't know. They won't leave us be, that's for certain. What if we go to the police?"

"They could tell the police about us as well, though," Francis countered with a strained smile. "We could be charged with many things, you realise."

"Very true," Tyki said with a chuckle. "So... we staying out of this then?"

"_Oui_, I think it will be for the best," Francis answered, nodding. "We both have people to take care of now, and they can't get involved in this."

Tyki nodded vehemently.

"Yeah, don't want them becoming members of a terrorist organisation now, do we?"

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

"You're late."

"Ach, shut yer trap arsehole. Just let me in."

Arthur gave his brother a furious glare as he let him into his apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him whilst muttering under his breath. He hadn't seen Ròidh in a long time, at least ten years, yet the man seemed not to have changed at all.

He still had the same thick Scottish accent, short red hair, and the green eyes and thick eyebrows that were the most prominent things about him. He still wore the same sort of clothing, blue suit shirts and denim jeans, but Ròidh did look more tired than Arthur had ever seen him.

Arthur knew this wasn't going to be a pleasant evening.

"Got any beer?" Ròidh asked, flopping down on the couch with a huff. Arthur nodded, opening his fridge and taking out two cans of Stella Artois. Handing one to his brother, who gave a nod of thanks, Arthur sat down on the armchair of the sofa.

"How are the others?" Arthur asked, giving a satisfied sigh after taking a large mouthful of beer.

"Peter's started secondary school, and already been given two detentions," Ròidh replied, chuckling. "Brynn's just about the same, and Áron's now workin' for some shit pharmaceutical company up in Glasgow."

"Good to know," was all Arthur said in reply.

The two of them soon fell silent, said silence turning pretty awkward pretty soon. Arthur and Ròidh got on well on occasion, usually when they were drunk, but for the most part didn't see each other enough to be close.

"Well, what shite are we eating for dinner?" Ròidh eventually asked, downing his can of beer and throwing it at the bin, getting it in easily. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I know you hate my cooking, so I ordered Fish and Chips, wanker."

"Good. Kinda don't wanna die of food poisonin'."

"Oi, it's not that bad! Be glad I'm even wasting my money getting you food, you fussy Scottish scum!"

Ròidh shoved his brother off of the couch for that, grinning mischievously as Arthur sat up, red faced and furious. Before the blonde could retaliate, the doorbell went.

"Coming," Arthur called, giving his brother a filthy look and receiving two fingers in reply.

Opening the door, and trying his best to smile and appear friendly, instead of nearly homicidal, a young teen dressed in tacky uniform, carrying a few plastic bags smelling of fish, stood in the doorway.

"20 quid please."

Resisting the urge to tell the kid to learn how to speak properly, Arthur handed over a £20 note, took the bags from the teenager and closed the door before anything more could be said.

Soon enough, Arthur and Ròidh were finishing the last dregs of chips and bits of fish, sighing contentedly at all the fatty food they had eaten.

"Nothing like a good fast food session," Arthur stated, leaning back on the couch with a smile. Ròidh nodded, picking up his third beer can with the smallest of smiles. Then, when the silence was beginning to get awkward again, Arthur sighed and turned to face his brother.

"You said you had something to tell me about ADAM?" Arthur asked quietly, noticing how Ròidh suddenly looked a lot more tense. The red head put down his drink and rested his hands in his lap, looking up at the ceiling.

"ADAM's gotten out."

Arthur froze, eyes widening.

"B-but I thought -"

"How did He escape from prison? No idea mate. No idea whatso-fucking-ever."

"He was in such a high security facility though..."

"We reckon the bastard had friends that we couldn't catch. We only found Him, remember? No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't find the others."

Arthur fell silent, closing his eyes and rubbing them tiredly. Then he froze. He suddenly realised why his brother was telling him this.

"No. No. I won't. Not again."

"You helped me loads, yer know. We're gonna need your input on this."

"I refuse! Do you know how bloody terrified it all made me? How scared I was of waking up kidnapped? Do you know how many fucking nightmares I had about the bodies?"

"Oh calm the fuck down! Stop being such a pussy, Arthur."

"I won't get dragged into this shit. I won't."

Ròidh sighed irritably, running his fingers through his hair. Then, after a while, he sat up and met his brother's gaze.

"I know you don't really wanna get involved in this again," Ròidh said softly. "I don't want to be in this shit anymore than you do. But we need all the help we can get, and you're the best person for the job right now."

"But I have a kid to take care of now," Arthur countered, clenching his fists. "I don't really care about the brat, but I don't want to end up worrying about him all the time, or put him in danger; Cross'll kill me."

"I understand that," his brother answered. "We can protect the wee lad, don't worry. Now stop being a twat and help me."

After a few long minutes of silence, Arthur sighed and nodded, his expression resigned and tired.

"Fine, I'll help you. I'm guessing I need to go up to Scotland Yard in London then?"

"Yep. I'll phone you when we need yer there."

Arthur sank back deeply into the couch cushions behind him and sighed.

"Well, there goes having a normal life again huh..."

**/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /**

**That's the end of chapter 3. Please review, and look forward to the next one soon :)**

**xrowa-chanx**


	4. Update

Hey guys ~

I'm really sorry, but I can't update so many stories all at once ;n; I took on too much, stupidly, and now I have too many stories to write all at the same time T~T So I have decided to put three of my fics on hiatus; **Homeostasis**, **Snapshots Of The Heart**, and **CheckMate**.

I'm gonna concentrate on my other two for now, but I will definitely come back to the other ones! **What Makes Us Human** won't be too long, so I will go back to **Homeostasis** first, most likely. **Prophecy : Shin** won't be finished for ages, however XD

Sorry again! I just want to be able to update quick enough when I go back to school, and updating five fics when I'm at school will be nearly impossible XD

Much love,

xrowa-chanx


End file.
